xKill Byx
by Censorship is a Cancer
Summary: An old friend comes back to Louisiana, trying to rid herself of ghosts. What happens when she finds a new one along the way?
1. x Kill By One x

**__x |Kill By One| x__**

Her gun had cocked as she eyed her target rounding the corner. A smirk graced her lips. She pulled the trigger. The bullet hit hard in his skull, knocking his fresh corpse onto the sidewalk. The sound of sirens immediately pierced her eardrums, calling out to her to run like hell.

"Shit." She muttered to herself, dragging her petit body from the rooftop and in a flash, she was in the alleyway, holstering her weapon and getting into her sleek, black Mustang. Revving the ignition, she took off from the crime scene she had created. The raven-haired beauty pursed her lips disapprovingly, driving like a maniac out of her parking spot and heading back to her large, exquisite mansion.

Harlow Crane barely had company, save her butler, Jay Thomas. He had raised her since she was eighteen, when her father had died. He had watched over her as best he could, even with her dangerous employment. Crane had always been a wild infant, never took to anybody's orders, not even Jay's. He had decided it was best to give her what she wanted, but make sure she was trained to be most careful.

Crane's father, Gary, had left her mother from Louisiana when she was only seven. She had been a junkie and a thief, stealing all of her father's money behind his back and sleeping around with the various god-fearing drug addicts that she hung out with. Gary didn't want her influence on his daughter, so he had taken Harlow to his parents' own mansion in Australia. Harlow had been brought up home schooled by the best teachers. The young woman had eventually grown into being a rebel at just seventeen years old, when she had gotten the most recognizable tattoo on her body, an angel beginning on her abdomen and traveling more… down south. It was how the majority of people on both sides of the law knew her.

Pulling into the driveway, she killed the ignition and made her way inside swiftly, her guns tucked safely into the holsters underneath her leather jacket.

"You're in trouble," was all Harlow heard the moment she entered the large mansion. She stole a glare towards Jay, setting her keys in the small dish upon the table nearest to the door.

"When am I not, Jay?" She inquired, her Aussie accent rather thick, "what's it now, mate?" She cocked her head to the side and perked a brow in nigh attempt to unite it with her hairline. Jay hadn't chortled wholeheartedly as he normally did. On the contrary, he kept his face stern, urgent to get directly to brass tacks. He really _was_ serious. She_ was_ in trouble.

"They're onto you now, the police. You're barely twenty-one, 'Low, you need to be careful. You need to get out, go somewhere." He had said, causing Harlow's brow to lower, no longer in the humor mood she had been in before. She had never seen Jay this critical about anything since her father's untimely death, may he rest in peace.

"You know I have hiding places—" she had begun to retort. She was cut off. Harlow hated being cut off.

"Not in Australia, Harlow. You're going back to live with your mother." He replied, "in Louisiana."

Harlow was fuming, but she played completely calm. "You can't be serious, Jay. You think you can just shove me off to live with my crack-head of a mother with the snap o'your bloody fingers? You're just a few 'roos short of a paddock, you know that? You haven't given me orders since—" once more, she was overpowered by Jay's furious tone. She could never really play coy for too long before her temper got the best of her. Jay was the exact same way. It had seemed she learned from the best. Or, in this case and from her point of view, the worst.

"I'm giving you one now. Your mother has changed since you last saw her. She's straight now. I have been sure to write to her before I decided to 'shove you off to Louisiana', as you say. You have no choice, I already scheduled the flight. I'm sorry, but I'm not-" Harlow's turn to cut in this time.

"Risking it? You never do, mate, and you really need to start figuring out how. I'm not going to Louisiana. Not even if my bloody freedom depends on it." Harlow suddenly shot him a glare, beginning to remove her leather jacket. However, being the person she was, it was very likely that she was going to try and find a way out. When it came to Jay, however, she wasn't to succeed. When he had his mind hell-bent on something, he was going to achieve it.

"You're going. That's final." He demanded. Jay had never taken such harsh tone with her, though mutely, Harlow understood how he would be angry. She had become a bit sloppy, though she never did know why. Maybe she was losing passion for the kill? No, that couldn't be it. The young woman slapped her leather jacket into his arms, her holsters bouncing against her slender torso as she trotted up the stairs and into her room.

The hard thud of a fist smacking into the wall was proof that she wasn't happy that her things were already packed, ready to be loaded into the car and ready for her to be taken away. Damn the fatherly figure straight to hell.

"Sweet dreams, Harlow Crane." Jay had muttered nonchalantly before hanging up the young girl's coat and treading off to his own room.


	2. x Kill By Two x

**__x |Kill By Two| x__**

Arriving in Louisiana had been no problem, come nightfall. However, boarding the trouble had. Harlow had been determined enough not to go that she had attempted fleeing several times and barely succeeded once. Jay would have none of her attitude and her excellently rounded Aussie curses. He had sighed to himself as he watched her slumped form glare at him from the passenger seat, the private jet leaving him behind in the dust to cover up Crane's macabre breadcrumb trails of assassinations. She would be safe with her mother, safe away from Australia and safe in her undying misery and hatred towards him.

"Bloody hicks." She mumbled to herself as she lugged her suitcases from the car that drove her into Bon Temps. She had caught a rather hateful stare from her driver and she shot one right back to him. "The fuck you lookin' at, fruitcake?" She snapped, causing him to immediately fold his arms over his chest and stare at her. "Fine. You wanna play that game? No blinking." She ordered, snickering as she dragged her small amount of luggage to the front door of the rather fancy house, lazily reaching up and bashing her fist against the screen door. She heard footsteps. In a matter of moments, a rather pretty woman was looking at her, smiling brightly. The door swung open, revealing Harlow in her dark shades and leather jacket, smoking a cigarette disrespectfully. As the smoke met the fair haired woman's nostrils, she crinkled it up like a bunny and waved the smoke out of her face.

"Jay never said you smoked." She spoke in a rather thick Texan brogue, Harlow reached up, sliding her aviators to the tip of her nose and perking a brow as she had to Jay the night before.

"Your fuckin' point?" She retorted, placing her cigarette back between her lips and taking a long drag. Her mother seemed to scrunch her mouth to the left, cocking her hip in that same direction and giving her fist rest upon it. She was slender, but she looked worn, tough and unyielding. However, she had a hint of innocence about her that confused Harlow. She would never expect such behavior from a junkie, let alone her own mother. "Look, are you gonna let me in or what?" Her tummy grumbled, drawing her away from her thoughts and analysis, "sheila's gotta fuckin' eat."

"You keep your cursin' to a minimum, young missy, you got me?" She wagged a finger in Harlow's face, then in a flash, she had grasped her cigarette and tossed it out onto the lawn, "and no smokin' in my house." She concluded.

"Hey! Waste of a good cigarette." Harlow muttered under her breath, keeping eye contact with her and shoving past her mother roughly. "I'll swear if I bloody well want to. It's too late for you to be a goddamn mother-"

"And don't you _dare_ take the Lord's name in vain!" She spoke low and stern, catching Harlow's attention. Crane rolled her suitcase off to the side, then turned to her, tilting her chin up slightly in sheer defiance.

"Or what? You'll kick me out? Go right ahead, I never wanted to be stuck with a straight-edge fuckin' ex-junkie in the first place." She stepped into her mother's range, causing the woman to back herself against the wall. Harlow followed suit, not allowing their noses to be anymore than three inches apart. It was her method of establishing her own dominance. "Let's get something straight here, Georgia. I never opted to be in this dump, so if your threat is to send me right back to Australia, you got no fuckin' complaints. But as I am here, I will swear all I bloody-goddamn-well want to and you'll bloody-goddamn-motherfuckin'-well get shittin' used to it, are we clear on that or do I need to take a bit grander a step in helping you understand your own daughter?" It was then that her other slender brow raised, causing Georgia to narrow her own.

Harlow was astonished enough to find that with surprising strength, she had been pinned to the wall by her throat in the blink of an eye. Crane hardly let her surprise show. It hadn't even met her eyes when she spoke so calmly, her vocal chords vibrating against the sensitive digits of her vampire mother's hand, "I knew I took a few good traits away from you, Georgia." She said, a twisted grin appearing lopsided upon her face. Georgia spat upon her cheek, causing Harlow to calmly reach up and wipe it away. Georgia had given birth to Harlow the night she had been bitten. That was why Gary had taken his daughter away from her. Harlow was the only living daywalker, the only half breed, the hybrid. All their strengths, none of their weaknesses, not even the craving for blood had kicked in yet, though she had been promised that it eventually would.

Harlow grabbed Georgia's wrist, twisting it off of her neck and slamming her mother's front into the wall, cruelly forcing her arm behind her back. Georgia let out a sharp cry of pain. "Much as I'd love to stand here and chat... _mother_... I need to _fuckin'_ unpack." She emphasized before she released her arm and grabbed her suitcase, disappearing up the stairs in a flash.

"First door on the right." Georgia called back, grasping her arm and rubbing it slightly, feeling it heal almost immediately. "Fuckin' bitch." She hissed under her breath.


	3. x Kill By Three x

**__x |Kill By Three| x__**

"You'll be getting a job at Merlotte's." Stated Georgia plainly, wrapping her fingers around the bottle of Tru Blood casually, lifting it to her lips and taking a long swig, her eyes never once leaving the newspaper before her. Harlow turned to her, holding a cup of coffee nonchalantly in her hands, eyeing her mother skeptically before she took a sip of her own hot beverage. How lucky she was that she was a hybrid. She was able to drink and eat whatever she wanted to without the slightest craving for blood.

"My second night here and you're already hell-bent on whippin' me into fuckin' shape, Georgia? The fuck is that place, anyway?" She asked, her face completely blank. Georgia flipped to the next page of the paper and was about to bypass it, since it was the cartoon section. With a rustle of tousled papers, the comic section was gone from the section and now in Harlow's hands, who hadn't even spilled the slightest bit of coffee when she had snatched her favorite part of every morning newspaper.

"It's a family restaurant... and a bar. I talked to Sam, he's low on staff and he's pretty much desperate." She shrugged. Harlow hadn't responded for a moment, taking another sip of her coffee calmly and smirking at the comic she was skimming over quickly.

"He must be if he's willing to hire me." She retorted. Georgia chuckled, finally causing Harlow's eyes to meet her mother's, who was now looking at her with good intent.

"You get more than just your strength from me, it seems." She observed. That alone caused Harlow to roll her eyes in exasperation, finally setting her section of the paper aside along with her mug.

"Don't get all cozy with me, Georgia. You're my mother by birth, but that's it. Don't take much to be a mother, but it does take a lot to be a mom." The girl said wisely. Georgia nodded.

"Of course it does."

--

Sam Merlotte checked his watch. The new girl was late. Why in the hell had he taken the word of Sookie when she had recommended ex-junkie and vampire, Georgia MacLeod-Crane's newcomer daughter as the perfect waitress? His head shot up as the door had burst open and a rather attractive, young, raven-haired beauty stepped inside. Yep, that had to be Harlow Crane or else Sam would be Jesus-fuckin'-Christ. He cleared his throat, instantly catching the young rebel's attention and waving her over. He watched curiously while she removed her shades and stomped out her cigarette on the floor carelessly, crossing the threshold on her own pace and leaning against the bar. Obviously a young woman with an attitude problem.

"How old are you?" He asked right off the bat. This alone caused Harlow to smirk slyly and run her tongue along her teeth.

"You don't skip a fuckin' beat, do yah?" She asked. Sam didn't laugh or smirk, which had only caused the young Crane's lopsided grin to spread in amusement. "And you ain't one to take shit. I like that." She complimented. Sam still hadn't responded to her game, merely waiting for her proper answer with his hand against the bar, his dirty bar rag being stuffed into his back pocket with his other hand. Harlow tilted her head off to the side appreciatively, "I'm twenty." She said finally, causing him to nod curtly and lean in. Harlow didn't back away out of slight respect, her bubblegum cracking in his ear as they had gotten close enough for their cheeks to touch.

"How long you been twenty for?" He asked, causing Crane to chortle seductively and pull back, meeting his eyes.

"Almost half a century." She responded finally. Sam finally adopted a weird look, eyeing the dying sunlight on the horizon and looking back at her.

"How?" He asked her. Harlow shook her head.

"I'd tell yah, but then I'd have to kill yah. We don't want that, do we, mate?" Sam had said nothing at first, but then sterned his stare on her, reaching out and grasping the front of her leather jacket, tugging her to see only him in her view, which she had smirked at. "You like gettin' in the zones, don't yah?"

"I deserve to know what the fuck is working for me." He snapped, roughly releasing her and shoving her away from him in slight disgust. Harlow adjusted her jacket and rested her elbow against the counter halfheartedly, sighing in an over dramatic way.

"Think we could discuss this privately at all? Or must the whole bloody bar know?" She asked, skeptically skimming over the premises before turning her gaze back to Merlotte. Harlow wasn't going to expose herself as the first daywalker in Bon Temps. She wasn't going to be pegged as some kind of freakishly mutated gene of vampire. She had that where she had been in Australia and she loathed it. It was the last thing she needed in this hick town.

Sam had merely sent her a short nod, motioning for her to follow him into his office. With a confident stride and ignoring all the odd stares she had received from the various customers in the bar, she kept on Merlotte's heels and escorted him into his office, slumping into the seat across from his desk.

"You're not vampire. You can walk in the day," came his slightly accented voice. This alone caused a Cheshire cat grin to appear on her visage as she swiveled in the chair, much like a child that was going to spin, but she remained contentedly in place, facing him head-on.

"Am I really that transparent?" She inquired only to increase her entertainment. Sam didn't find it at all funny.

"I don't allow vampires in my bar, let alone allow them to work for me."

"Good thing I'm not a vampire."

The weird glare appeared on his face once more.

"What are you?"

"Something not vampire, but not human either."

It was time to take a leap of small faith for both parties, which Harlow had proceeded to do in telling him of her species and which Sam had done in finally hiring her once her story finished.

However, with Harlow's amount of money to her name and no need for the job, a small under-the-table bargaining chip had been tossed into the card game, which had easily swayed Merlotte's mind.


	4. x Kill By Four x

**__x |Kill By Four| x__**

Boredom. The first step towards brutally slaughtering yourself, mused Harlow to herself as she tapped her fingers against the bar counter. Sam had eyed her, then motioned with his head towards the customer that had been impatiently waiting at the bar for his drink that he ordered. Her first night and she was already slacking. She was paying Merlotte to let her work there, since it would help her get a sense of dominance around the damn joint and would also let Georgia believe that she was getting herself grounded. In a huff, Harlow turned her leering gaze to the fat bozo before her, clicking her tongue and beginning to mix the customer's drink casually. She had it before his eyes within seconds, causing him to be taken aback from how quickly she had done it.

This night was really going to drag on, according to the newcomer.

"Evenin', Sookie." Sam called out as a young blond accompanied by a tall, dark and handsomely pale man entered the bar. Her attention was immediately drawn to the interspecies couple and she perked a brow. She knew of Sookie and "that vampire" from the ruckus that continually swept through the bar the few hours she had lazed about on her first evening at Merlotte's. She sniffed as Sookie had come up to the counter, eyeballing Harlow as though she was from an entirely different planet.

"Evenin' Sam!" She had replied in a chipper voice, a large smile gracing her delicate features. She was too bright and bubbly for Harlow's liking, though she could see why a dark, mysterious vampire would go for such a light and breezy woman, "and who might this be? Tara's replacement?" She asked almost too eagerly, filing for information.

"Harlow, Sookie. Sookie, Harlow." He replied rather tonelessly. A curt raise of Harlow's eyebrows indicated her greeting towards the blond Louisianan.

"A... vampire?" Sookie asked slowly. The corner of Harlow's mouth twitched.

"Not exactly." Her eyes took from the vampire man across from her to Sookie before snapping right back to him. He had extended his own hand to her for more proper introduction.

"Bill Compton." He stated.

"I'm sure." Harlow left it at that, pushing herself from the bar and moving towards some new customers that had come in, bickering about going to some vampire bar on the outskirts of Bon Temps. Fangtasia? What a faggot title for a bar. However, it had perked Harlow's interest. Maybe she would go check it out when she got off work. Or maybe she'd take tomorrow night off. Sam didn't need her that badly and she'd pay him anyway. No harm in it.

As Compton had taken a seat at the bar, keeping his eyes on Sookie's rear as she retreated into the back part of the bar to get changed in her uniform, Harlow grabbed him a bottle of Tru Blood that he had ordered, heating it and handing it to him without breaking eye contact with him. Harlow refused to wear a uniform, so her black tank top and shredded jeans, Sam would have to make due with. She wasn't paying him for nothing in this stinkin' joint.

"Can't you be remotely friendly to my fuckin' customers?" Sam hissed at her as he pulled her to the side. Her glare was enough to make him release her arm and she shoved him aside from her, plastering a large, forced smile on her face as she crossed the threshold of the bar to a few new boys that approached the bar and demanded her attention.

"Ace, mates, what the fuck can I get yah?" She asked, the bright grin still on her face. Taking their orders, she flashed them all a wink, grabbing them their drinks in a timely fashion. Passing by Sam, she bumped into him with her shoulder roughly, almost knocking him into the counter. "That bloody well nice e-fuckin'-nough, Merlotte?" She asked.

"Sure is. Keep it the fuck up and I won't have to kick your sorry ass out of my bar."

She smiled sweetly, which almost gave him the chills. "You're such a doll to me."


	5. x Kill By Five x

**__x |Kill By Five| x__**

Sookie was unsure about the new girl, Crane. Simply the introduction with her was awkward and rather upsetting. Stackhouse refused to let the girl get to her, though. Bill's loving stares assured her that everything would eventually turn out alright. His trial had finished only a few weeks ago and she was aware of the dumb redheaded vamp housing with him. Jessica had made sure to ruin whatever moments they had together, hence why Bill usually stayed over at Sookie's home instead, leaving Jessica to do as she pleased, which was really what she preferred. Ever since Eric had dropped her off at the Compton residence, Sookie had not been able to spend as much time with him, due to his full hands with Jessica's shenanigans. She almost couldn't take it anymore. They needed some type of babysitter or something, someone who wasn't afraid to put the dumb bitch in her place.

Or someone who wasn't afraid to kill her if she got out of hand.

"Somethin' crawlin' up your ass, Stackhouse?" Came the thick Aussie accent of the new girl. Sookie's dark eyes met Harlow's and the vampire... thing... whatever... had flashed her a straight-toothed grin. "Got some problems with the missis?"

"No, the child." She retorted before having to see Bill off for the fifth time this week so he could go and check on Jessica to be sure she wasn't seeking havoc on all Bon Temps. Crane perked a brow, leaning against the counter while running her moist, pink muscle along her canines. Something was up. She'd get it out of her and hopefully something fuckin' interesting could come of this night. Once Sookie had returned from her long, drawn-out farewell with her lover, she caught her co-worker's arm and pulled her behind the bar so she could serve customers and hear Stackhouse's woes while getting tips.

"What about this child?" She asked. Harlow normally wasn't one to make small talk, but she needed something to tide her over from going into deep insanity and murdering every dumb bitch that ordered a drink.

"Jessica. Bill... Bill's her maker. Why do you wanna know?" The fair-haired woman raised her eyebrows expectantly. Harlow never made eye contact.

"Boredom." She replied with a simple shrug, "so spare me the gory details. She's buggin' yah and yah want her outta your hair, am I right?" She handed the customer their drink before turning back to Sookie.

"Yeah, I guess, but..." she realized what Harlow was indicating, then shook her head. "I don't mean... killed or anythin' like that, but just... like a babysitter or somethin'."

"Good enough for me. I'll take care of it." She offered herself up on a plate. So long as she had something to kick around, she'd be content. Hell, she would probably live for it.

"Wh-what? You-you sure?"

"Don't make me change my fuckin' mind, Stackhouse, you want me to do it or not?" She snapped irritably, causing Sookie to be taken aback. Slowly, she inclined her head. "Thought so. When do yah need me to do it?" She asked, tapping her fingers impatiently on the bar top and making Sookie rather fidgety.

"Well... how about tomorrow night?" Harlow had smirked.

"Consider it done." Once she had turned to go back to work, Stackhouse's voice followed her.

"I really hope you can handle her. She's quite the handful." She warned.

"I've probably handled worse, trust me."

--

"Where you goin'?" Asked Georgia as Harlow made her way to the front door. Crane turned back to her birth mother with a blank look on her face.

"Babysitting." She replied simply. "I'll be back a lot later, probably in the morning, you'll most likely be in slumber." She assured her.

"Just play safe." She warned. Anything could happen in Bon Temps nowadays. Hell, anything could happen in the whole world nowadays.

"Don't I always." Harlow's statement initiated her final departure.

--

"Why you gotta leave me with that fuckin' skank?!" Came Jessica's shrill voice, causing Bill and Sookie to flinch. Harlow, however, merely took another pull off her cigarette, her shades shielding her eyes. She was adorned in her leather jacket, leather pants and a black tank top to pull the whole outfit together. She lounged on the couch nonchalantly, mutely claiming the home as her own while Compton and Stackhouse went about their business.

Jessica was wearing a plaid mini skirt and a burgundy mesh tank top, showing off her black bra beneath it. And Harlow was supposed to be the skanky bitch.

"Sit your faggot ass down, you dumb bitch." Harlow snapped, causing Jessica's fuming gaze to snap to her. Bill could only flinch more, along with Sookie, as Jessica went a full octave higher in her tantrum. Crane seemed to be the only one playing completely cool. She arose from her spot on the couch, curling her index finger around the bridge of her sunglasses and tugging them to the tip of her nose as she had done so many times before.

"Make me!" Spat the redheaded loudmouth. This alone caused Crane to give the girl a confused head tilt and before she knew it, her balled fist collided with the girl's nose, sending her onto the floor with blood streaming down her face. Before she could regain her composure, Harlow had grabbed a fistful of her fiery red hair, shooting her face into her knee cap repeatedly until she was writhing on the floor in pain, screaming out like a banshee.

"That good enough?" She asked, then glanced over to Bill and Sookie, who had nodded in approval. "I thought not." She concluded. A final biker boot heel into her face had knocked Jessica out cold. Harlow brushed a few strands of noir tresses from her visage and nodded. "Okay. I'm good now. Take your leave before I change my mind and run the fuck outta here." She snapped, waving the couple off and resuming her position on the couch, shutting her eyes and planning on getting a little nap before the bratty bitch came to and tried to strangle her in her sleep. Harlow chuckled. Good fuckin' luck performing such a feat.

--

**__x | Author's Note | x__** ;; I know that some things may come as confusing, so I decided to take this time to clear a few things up. Just so I don't get a shitload of hate mail or whatever...

The tattoo on Harlow's abdomen is an indication that her face is Asia Argento. That wouldn't get me hate mail or anything, I just thought I'd let you all know so that you'd have an image to go by for her.

Harlow **is** half a century old. Her father was human, her mother was made vampire, obviously and Jay **is** a vampire. Just so that I don't get any questions as to how he's looked after her since she was eighteen.

Things might seem a bit confusing now, but I'll get shit straightened out eventually. I'm currently suffering from a sinus infection, so nothing currently makes sense, even to me. Sucks, don't it?

Proper reviews, please. "Update soon" just don't fuckin' cut it anymore.

+ Censorship is a Cancer ;


	6. x Kill By Six x

**__x |Kill By Six| x__**

Harlow had been stricken from her slumber by a loud pounding on the door. She drew herself up from the couch, snickering lowly at Jessica's unconscious body, still in the same place as she had left her. She idly stepped over her and grabbed the knob, turning it and roughly tugging open the door, eyeing the blond headed, tall drink of water before her. Obligatorily, she slid her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose in order to study him a moment longer.

"You're not Bill." He stated plainly. Harlow made no facial response.

"Caught onto that, did yah?" Her thick accent retorted.

"She's too pretty to be male." Added a feminine voice of another vampire standing beside the Swedish vamp. She had her hair tied into a tight bun, her red lips pouting slightly as she smirked. Definitely a beautiful woman. The semi-chubby, dark haired man in the back had caught Harlow's eye as well.

"Is Bill here?" Asked the taller of the three, his hands folded together behind his back.

"The fuck do you think?" Crane snapped, causing the one she had directed her attitude towards to glare at her in attempts to put her in her place. "I'm assuming you want inside? I ain't s'posed to talk to strangers." She reasoned lamely, obviously wanting none of their company.

"What are you doing at the Compton residence?" He replied, pushing past her forcibly. Harlow rolled her eyes, allowing the other two inside.

"Babysitting." This alone caused the tall, well-built man to eye Jessica's unconscious body on the floor. "She's currently on a time out." She reasoned, shrugging.

This had caused Eric Northman to smirk to himself. The girl had a certain spunk. He liked her already.

"When will Mr. Compton return from his rendezvous? I'm assuming he's out with Ms. Stackhouse?" He inquired.

"This turning into the Spanish Inquisition now?" His immediate glare had been returned and followed up with a response, "no clue. He said 'late'."

"Very well. We shall wait here until Mr. Compton returns. Our business will be brief. My name is Eric. This is Pam. Chow." He pointed out the other two. Pam had immediately taken in front of Eric, studying Crane skeptically.

"Never met a vampire with no bite marks... how interesting." She stated bluntly. Crane gave her a lopsided grin.

"Maybe they're just in a place yah can't see, sheila. Wanna strip search me?" She asked, shrugging a brow curtly, then clicking her tongue and flashing her a wink. She was merely teasing, though the suggestion had caught Pam's attention and caused her eyes to give Harlow a thorough once-over.

"Name the time and place, sugah." The raven-haired beauty said nothing in return, believing that the jest had been taken to a whole new level now.

Eric had folded his reached out, placing his index and middle finger upon Pam's shoulder and without effort, he moved her gradually to the side. "What is your name?" He demanded lowly.

"Janice Mercury." She lied through her teeth, her smirk widening.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Thought so. Harlow. Crane." She said, sniffing slightly and trying to shield the strong scent of cologne that wafted into her nostrils. She abruptly turned away from them, reclining back onto the long couch and pushing her sunglasses back over her eyes. "Make yourselves at home." She stated before attempting to sleep once more.

A small tap upon her boot had caused her to draw her sunglasses back down to the tip of her nose, eyeing Eric's tall figure as he had motioned her to move. She perked a brow, nigh uniting it with her hairline. However, she did not oblige his requests, pushing her sunglasses back over her eyes and settling her head back upon the arm rest of the couch. Wordlessly, she lifted her feet, indicating that she would be setting her dirty boots in his lap, should he choose to take the seat.

A low chuckle escaped Pam's lips. "I like her already, Eric. One who's actually not afraid to defy you." She stated in her usual seductive drawl.

"I don't." He retorted, only causing Pam to laugh a bit more.

"Get fuckin' used to it." Crane added in plainly, clearing her throat and almost hearing the steam erupting from Eric's fuming ears. She knew that if she continued, it'd break out in a fight. She wasn't scared, though. No... she lived for it. In fact, as the front flaps of her jacket had been seized and she was slammed into the wall in a flash, her sunglasses being ripped from her eyes, she looked down at Eric with absolutely no fear. In fact, she had wound up smirking at him.

"Now what on earth could you be smiling about?" He snapped calmly. Harlow proceeded to tap the tip of her switchblade onto his inner thigh, indicating that she had a straight shot to the goods, should he attempt any funny business.

Pam chimed in again, cooing to them. "She's _very_ good."

"Easy on, mate. I got a shot at the goodies right about now." Harlow warned casually. Eric snarled and dropped her to the ground. "You might be built like a brick shit house, but it don't mean I'm gonna cower in fear when yah give me that look." Eventually, she was released, landing easily on her feet. She snatched up her sunglasses, then immediately tossed them onto the couch as she was tackled from the side by a very angry, very bloody Jessica.


End file.
